One Christmas Star

by Mandy Baggot

  ‘But it is! Christmas is all warm and cosy and…’

  ‘Freezing and frosty.’

  ‘Not now the central heating is fixed.’

  He smiled at her. ‘That is a very good point.’

  ‘And you helped me put up a Christmas tree only last night,’ Emily reminded, adjusting the hat on his head.

  ‘And only under the influence of coffee,’ he said. ‘What are you turning me into?’

  He was getting a little nostalgic. Some Christmases past had been warm and cosy, with brandy-laden trifles and presents his dad had worked every hour available to afford to buy. This was because of Ida’s comment about losing his mother and seeing his dad yesterday. It was all bringing to the fore the loss he still hadn’t quite dealt with yet. Christmas wasn’t ever quite the same when you were a family member down…

  ‘Sorry,’ Ray apologised. ‘Don’t listen to me. I’m like The Grinch. Just thought you should know that in case…’

  ‘You start to turn green and furry?’

  ‘I’m wondering if that might be a better look than Santa Claus.’ He put out his arms, indicating his attire.

  ‘I have to go,’ Emily said, straightening the collar of his Father Christmas jacket. ‘I’ll introduce you. As Father Christmas, obviously. And the children will love it, particularly the Reception Class. So, just wave, don’t speak at all and play the music and we’ll sing. Then everyone will clap – hopefully – and then I’ll come backstage and help you out of your clothes.’

  Even though she’d said the last sentence in a rush and it was all completely innocent, a smouldering crackled into life in Ray’s gut. Emily Parker looking beautiful again in that pale shiny shirt that set off the colour of her hair. And the fit of those trousers wasn’t lost on him either. They enhanced every curve she possessed. Emily would definitely be on his radar if romance was ever on his agenda again. But, right now, it was a pretty big ‘if’.

  She laughed, then cleared her throat. ‘I meant, help you out of your costume.’ Then she ran to the curtain and disappeared. Ray closed his eyes and let out a breath. Romance. He had had romance with Ida once, but that felt like a lifetime ago and, for the longest time, it had turned into a battle of control rather than an open, honest, two-way relationship. He wasn’t sure he was ever going to be able to trust that it wouldn’t happen the very next time he shared his heart…

  *

  ‘The bishop has eaten six mini-Christmas pudding bites,’ Dennis whispered to Emily. ‘Six! I’ve counted!’

  ‘Best not let him near your bag of flying saucers then,’ Emily replied.

  ‘And those suffragans!’ Dennis continued. ‘I don’t think either of them have spoken. Not one word.’

  ‘Maybe they’re not allowed to,’ Emily suggested. ‘Maybe they’ve taken a vow of silence or something.’

  ‘That’s monks, Emily. Not suffragans.’

  ‘Well, they all seemed to like the portraits of Jesus.’

  ‘How do you know? They haven’t spoken!’

  Emily caught Susan’s eye and her head-docking towards the stage. It was time for the performance. Well, there was no going back now. Do or die. How hard could it be? One song, played by a professional musician and sung by her children who, having practised it at least fifty times on a loop this morning, should have it lodged as an earworm. And if they didn’t, they had words on sheets of paper. It was fool proof.

  ‘Right, I’d better get this show on the road,’ Emily said, lacing her fingers together and stretching them out.

  ‘Good luck,’ Dennis answered.

  Emily walked towards her class who were seated on the front rows, all chatting, shaking the sheets of lyrics in their hands. Makenzie seemed to be making a paper aeroplane out of his.

  ‘Right, Year Six, are we ready to sing?’ Emily asked. ‘We’ll go up onto the stage now and get prepared.’

  ‘I’m not going to sing the God words,’ Rashid told her.

  ‘Rashid, that’s absolutely fine. I told you that earlier. If anyone feels uncomfortable about singing any of the song, then you don’t have to sing.’

  ‘I don’t really want to sing,’ Matthew stated.

  ‘Neither do I,’ Angelica added.

  ‘I don’t want to sing either.’

  ‘And I feel sick.’

  The last comment came from Cherry. Alice was right. She did look very pale, with a slight ghoulish tinge to her features.

  ‘Listen,’ Emily said, trying her best to sound the epitome of calm. ‘Year Six, I really, really need your help with this today. Because we really all want a wonderful Christmas show this year, don’t we? With… sweets and… treats and… chocolate for everyone.’ God, what was she doing? Bribing her children to get this done. It was an all-time low.

  ‘Chocolate,’ Jayden said, eyes lighting up. ‘We’ll get chocolate if we sing?’

  ‘You’ll get chocolate if you sing well,’ Emily answered. ‘So, let’s go and sing. The sooner we sing, the sooner I can arrange chocolate.’ She was counting on Dennis having something suitable for thirty-three children to share in his locker. If not, she would be off to the corner shop somewhere between after the song and before the parents arrived for the tableau exhibition. ‘Come on, let’s go up onto the stage.’

  With thirty-three reluctant children, Emily finally made it onto the boards and behind the microphone. Suddenly, the hall looked huge, like a sold-out show at the O2 Arena. Focus on the prize, Emily. Getting the funding for the school and that accomplishment leading the way to the Deputy Head position.

  ‘Good afternoon everyone and a special warm welcome to our esteemed guests from the diocese. Welcome Bishop Nicholas and…’ She had no clue what the other two were called. ‘Bishop Nicholas and… friends.’ She smiled in what she hoped was a warm and welcoming fashion. ‘My name is Emily Parker and I’m proud to be coordinating this year’s Stretton Park Christmas show. And I can tell you, it’s going to be the most fabulous and entertaining spectacle… in the world… ever.’ What was she saying? Talk about making a rod for her own back… ‘And to give you a small taste of what we are going to have in store on 20th December, my Year Six class are going to perform for you now. But first, let me introduce our piano-player. It’s someone you all know really well. Let’s give a hand for… Father Christmas!’

  Thank goodness, there were the gasps of delight from the younger children she had been hoping for. Then Ray strode on, clutching his padded-out stomach and waving his hands. But where was he going? She’d told him to just play the song, but he wasn’t heading for the piano at the side of the stage, he was heading to her and the microphone.

  ‘Ho! Ho! Ho!’ he announced in a rather convincing, been-at-this-Santa-lark-for-years cavernous voice. ‘Very Merry Nearly Christmas to you all! You will be pleased to know that the elves and I have been working extremely hard in the toy workshop this year, so I hope you’ve all been good little boys and girls.’ He spread out his arms. ‘Have you? Have you been good for your mummies and daddies?’

  Emily took ownership of the microphone back. ‘Or good for your mummies and mummies or daddies and daddies or step-parents or other legal guardians. Thank you so much, Father Christmas.’

  She was relieved when Ray did a final wave and headed towards the ancient piano. Then a sudden thought hit. Was the piano even working? Or tuned? Had anyone even touched it since Mr Jarvis’s departure? Why hadn’t she thought about that? The answer to that last question was because she was too busy thinking about literally everything else. But now she was praying. Sending up begging thoughts to whichever god was listening. After everything she’d had to do to arrive at this moment, please, for Stretton Park’s sake, let the piano be in tune.

  She stood back in line with her children and hoped they would all sing up nice and loud and confidently as well, so her voice didn’t have to be on display too much. It was one thing singing aloud in the privacy of her own apartment but quite another to be doing it in front of church royalty…
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  Ray began to play and Emily felt a swell in her stomach. It sounded beautiful. It was perfectly in tune and the notes were nothing like the loud jabbing of the keys Mr Jarvis had performed. This was like piano-stroking. It sounded like Ray was gently and carefully caressing the ebony and ivory, the soft, yet rich sound floating up into the hall. She was so caught up in listening to the introduction that she almost forgot when to come in…

  Here at Stretton Park, the holidays are coming

  And the nights are dark and clear

  Here at Stretton Park, our hearts are filled with Jesus

  And long ago, his birth did save the world

  They were doing it! Her class was singing! Most of them in tune, but Ray was singing too, making sure they kept in time.

  … Our school, will come together

  This night is ours to share

  One night, the star a sign

  One night, a baby came

  One night, in olden time

  Emily felt the tears prick her eyes as they finished the song. She had never felt more proud of her children than she did now. She looked around at their little smiling faces, so sweet, innocent and happy. Sometimes she forgot how young they actually were. And that was when the applause began. The classes watching the performance all cheered and clapped. The other teachers too. Emily looked to the bishop and the suffragans. They were applauding as well. The crosses around their necks actually vibrating with the force of their clapping. She wanted to bow. Perhaps they should bow. She bent her body slightly, looking to her children in the hope they would follow suit. And they did. Bending over and over, some of the others curtseying. The clapping carried on and someone shouted ‘more’. No! No, they couldn’t do more because they didn’t have more. Emily suspected the heckler was Dennis. She was definitely going to him for chocolate…

  ‘Thank you!’ Emily said into the microphone. ‘Thank you so much.’

  Her thanks delivered, it was mere seconds before Cherry threw up all over the stage.

  Thirty-Three

  ‘I need you to stay in the Father Christmas suit.’

  Ray had just taken off the hat that had been really itching his head. He looked to Emily. ‘That’s a joke, right? Because I told you how much I don’t get on with Christmas.’

  ‘No… I mean… you don’t have to stay in the suit, obviously, if you have somewhere else to be… which you obviously do because you don’t work here, and you have a life and… sorry.’ She took a breath. ‘I’ve got parents coming and Susan loved the fact I had Santa playing the piano and playing the piano so beautifully by the way, and it would just add to the whole festive atmosphere if Father Christmas was here. But, it’s fine. I’ve asked too much of you already.’

  Ray looked at the hat in his hands. ‘How much longer would I have to stay in the suit?’

  ‘An hour?’ Emily said. ‘Maybe an hour and a half. And you wouldn’t have to talk to anyone… although I did notice you seemed to rather enjoy addressing the audience earlier. That was unscripted.’

  ‘I told you, when I take on a role, I’m all in.’ He grinned. And this was a brilliant distraction to the shit that was currently going down in the rest of his life. Deborah had also mooted once upon a time that he might consider acting should he want to diversify. It wasn’t something he’d ever thought too seriously about, but given he seemed to be spending quite a bit of time avoiding truths with the people around him, maybe it wouldn’t be a huge leap to get paid for pretending to be something else…

  ‘So, you will?’ Emily asked, her face lighting up. ‘I’ll buy the chips tonight. Or, not chips, something better than chips. Whatever food you want to eat. Processed… or not.’

  ‘Deal,’ Ray agreed, getting to his feet.

  ‘Wait,’ Emily said. She took the hat out of his hands. ‘You need to put the hat back on.’

  He stood there and let her guide it onto his head, her fingers again tucking in his hair. Here he was in a white fuzzy beard, dressed all in red, and he was getting a little hot under the big, black belt about Emily touching him. Well, it had been a while…

  ‘There,’ Emily said, stepping back and looking satisfied with her work. ‘Come out when you’re ready. And no ho-ho-ho-ing. Just mingle.’

  ‘And jingle,’ Ray replied, shaking his head so the bell on the end of his hat made a noise.

  ‘And you say you don’t enjoy Christmas. I think that myth is well and truly shattered now.’

  He smiled at her as she disappeared behind the curtain again. He should check his phone. There was bound to be something from Deborah. Or some fall-out from his definite crushing of Ida’s apparent dreams of reconciliation. He had been calm, but firm. He wasn’t going to be blackmailed. And how could she even think of reconciliation after everything that had transpired between them? Because, he guessed, that was the world Ida existed in. A world she made the rules for.

  He stood up and put his hands on the Santa belt. ‘Ho! Ho! Ho!’

  Who exactly was he trying to kid?

  *

  ‘Hey! Ooo, Emily, you’re looking absolutely fabulous today. What colour is that shirt? Prosecco?’

  It was Two L’s, his mouth almost spilling the sausage roll he was nibbling on. What was he doing here?

  ‘It’s sort of that colour, isn’t it?’ Emily answered. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘It’s the “What Christmas Means to Me” thing isn’t it? Don’t tell me we’ve got the wrong day because Jonah has been baking all morning and if it’s not eaten then I’ll have to eat it and, well, if I eat it I’ll be as bloated as that Santa over there.’

  Emily swallowed, looking to Ray who was coming down from the stage. She’d completely forgotten Jonah had offered to bring baked goods to the after-school showcase. He’d mentioned it before he’d moved out. He’d obviously remembered and she hadn’t. She was turning into a very poor rememberer and an even poorer friend…

  ‘Where do you want these?’ Jonah asked. He was in full chef garb. His checked trousers, black restaurant shirt and apron, bandana over his hair. He had two large platters in his arms. ‘And there’s another three in the car.’

  ‘Oh, Jonah, you didn’t have to make all this,’ Emily remarked. It all looked wonderful from what she could see under the film. Little pastries with festive piping – holly leaves and berries, silver stars…

  ‘I said I would,’ Jonah said. ‘Plus, it gave me a chance to try out some new stuff. And I’m really happy with how it’s turned out so the hotel will benefit… if they ever let me adapt the menu.’ He smiled. ‘There’s smoked black pudding croquettes with apple sauce, the sausage rolls are turkey and cranberry, cod fritters with honey dip and fig and goat’s cheese puffs. And I did some mini-mince pies.’

  Emily felt tears prick her eyes. All these people helping her do life at the moment simply because they were wonderful, kind human beings. She wanted to hug Jonah, but she feared for the platters and his hard work.

  ‘I don’t know what to say,’ she breathed. Simon had loved Jonah’s sausage rolls…

  ‘Tell me where to put them so I can set them up and go and get the others,’ Jonah begged with a laugh.

  ‘I’ll get the others,’ Allan offered.

  ‘No eating them, Allan,’ Jonah ordered him.

  ‘I’ll grab some more tables,’ Emily said, rushing to the corner of the room.

  *

  ‘The tableaus are really impressive this year,’ Jonah said as he walked around the hall with Emily a little later. The room was filled with parents looking at what their children had been making over the course of the past few weeks. There were sculptures created from clay like Jayden’s, there were others made from recycling – cardboard, bottle tops, empty coffee pods – Felix’s was a fishbowl with real goldfish swimming around inside. She had asked him what it represented, and he had simply said the word ‘Christmas’ twice.

  ‘It’s amazing what you can get the children to do when you offer chocolate as an incentive.’ S
he really mustn’t forget to buy the class its treat for singing.

  ‘So, who’s the sexy Santa Claus?’ Jonah asked, nudging Emily with his elbow.

  ‘What?’ she exclaimed.

  ‘Well, I know I can’t see much of his face but he’s six foot, broad… is this some new teacher you haven’t told me about?’

  ‘Er, no,’ Emily answered. What was she going to say? Obviously anything other than the truth would be wrong…

  ‘Em?’ Jonah said. ‘Are you holding out on me? Do you like the sexy Santa?’

  ‘Sshh,’ Emily ordered.

  ‘So, you do!’

  ‘No!’ She looked over her shoulder, to see who, if anyone, was listening. Susan was talking to Alice’s parents. Alice’s tableau was of Jesus’s tombstone with tinsel and red-paint-soaked bandages which Emily had thought was more of an Easter project than a Christmas one, but she supposed it was all open to individual interpretation. Makenzie’s was nothing more than a Scalextric track… She turned back to Jonah. ‘It’s Ray.’

  ‘Ray?’ Jonah queried. And then all at once he got it. ‘Ray Stone?’ Now he just looked confused. ‘Ray Stone is dressed up in a Father Christmas suit? Here at Stretton Park.’

  Emily was momentarily phased at Jonah speaking the title of the song they had performed earlier. Then: ‘Yes, sshh.’ She swallowed. ‘It’s a bit of a long story. Listen, I just need to go and speak to Rashid’s parents and then I’ll tell you everything.’

  ‘I will want everything,’ Jonah told her. ‘And Allan will want more than everything.’

  Emily took a breath, straightened her blouse, then approached the table Rashid’s project was resting on. Rashid’s was good. It was an oval platter filled with small recreations of all the food he would be indulging in over the two-week break. She was in no doubt his parents had probably helped him with it, but it was absolutely worthy of being glazed and put on the wall of Dar’s Delhi Delights. She also knew it was hard to take part in these festive activities when you didn’t celebrate the season. She was always hyper-aware of that, despite Susan’s insistence that school policy was school policy and the parents all knew the religious bent when they enrolled.